


Unneccesary Mutual Pining

by technicallywritingdreamer



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Actor!Eddie, Miles is a good bro, Misscommunication, Multi, Oh and there's a hanted house called Murkoff Asylum, sound tech!Waylon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicallywritingdreamer/pseuds/technicallywritingdreamer
Summary: aka:These idiots deserve each other and I am still not great at titles.The basic rundown is that everyone's in college. Eddie is an actor and Waylon is a sound tech. They have a bit of history but miscommunication gets in the way and they dropped contact only to be reunited at Eddie's current job--The Groom in the Murkoff Asylum haunted house attraction. There's still miscommunication, but a happy ending is in the works.





	1. Chapter 1

It was somehow darker by the flickering kerosene lamp than anywhere else in the room. Waylon clung to the dim ring of light anyway, flinching from the soft brushes of moth wings and buzzing of mosquitos. Miles had walked with him as the sound tech set up mics along where their map showed actors had stations and lines. He had finished setting up for the recreation block when Miles ran off. All he got was a shout about some email and a no-nose ex-marine? It made about as much sense as Miles usually dd. Waylon was left in one of the pacing rooms, not knowing which way to go as Miles had taken the map. He was fidgeting around and trying to get Miles to text him back.

Asshole. 

None of the hokey, low-budget haunted houses of his youth had prepared him for the hellish experience of Murkoff Asylum. These were almost professional actors with extravagant staging and stunt work. The college had sent him and Miles as part of a crew for an alum’s YouTube channel working with Murkoff to promote the haunted horror experience. Blake seemed like a cool guy, but his wife was pregnant and he tended to run late. 

A distant scream had him cringing back, knocking into the bloody red barrels behind him, upsetting the lantern and casting shadows within shadows. He could swear he saw someone move down the hall, but the actors weren’t supposed to show up for another half hour. A large may fly smacked into his face and he flung his hands up to smack at it, only realizing his mistake as he heard a metallic ricochet that stopped his heart for a second; he just tossed his sound control and something flew off of it. 

Shit.

He pulled his phone out and turned on the flashlight and winced as hazy green light was replaced with bright white. He was able to find a good chunk of it in the room and intact, but some of it was scattered down the hallway towards the sewing room. He stacked the parts up by the lantern and found he was missing a vital, circular component. Maybe it had rolled past the other spray? He did a quick sweep, but it wasn’t there. The sewing room? 

He entered the musty space, trying not to gag at the scent of rotten wood mingling with stiffened fabrics and rust. The floors creaked under him and he took a deep breath, trying to ground himself and remember if there were any trap panels in the area. They would be shown by a slight outline of the weighted panel, so he just had to use the light…oh hey, metal gleam! He turned the light and saw the metal donuty bit leaning against a set of chained doors. He went to pick it up and heard some footsteps back the way he came, hopefully Miles remembering his roommate at last. As Waylon stood up, a flash of blue caught his eyes before—

“Waylon?”

Blood, scars, scabs. Pearly teeth. Unnaturally blue eyes staring at him with mismatched pupils. Hands reaching toward him.

Waylon tossed himself backwards, dropping his phone with an otherwise worrying crunching noise. His heart was hammering loud enough to block out everything else, even the sound of the other set of doors opening. He saw the light flicker and heard a slightly raspy voice call out.

“Did I scare you? I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to. We’ve met before, remember? ‘Once Upon a Dream’? Oh, you seem to have dropped something. Waylon?” The man bent down to pick up his phone and Waylon realized two things at once: first, the man couldn’t see him from where he’d wedged himself under a sewing table in his panic and two, he actually did know this guy.

“Eddie?” Now it was the actor’s turn to jump, spinning on his heel to look for the sound tech. The patchy vest and blood-stained shirt were a far cry from the Prince Phillip costume Waylon had last seen him in. A couple years older and in a different major, Eddie Gluskin hadn’t really crossed paths with Waylon until the university’s adaptation of Sleeping Beauty last semester. Eddie’s car had broken down two weeks into rehearsal and Waylon offered to give him a ride home—Miles had eaten through their chip supply anyway and he wanted to get some replacements while they were on sale. 

The two had started speaking after that, and by the time the curtain drew to a close on the last performance, Waylon felt like they could be considered friends. Well, at least until after the wrap party when Eddie had ignored him all night and then dropped contact over the summer. 

“There you are, darling.” Eddie gave a warm smile, or at least Waylon assumed he did—it was hard to tell with the prosthetics and lighting. His memory supplied enough visuals, though, to make up for it. “Do you need a hand?” It would be so easy to fall back into the man’s orbit.

“No thanks.” The tech stood and held his hand out for his phone. God bless him, Eddie shook it instead. Waylon couldn’t hold back a snort and didn’t have to look to know Eddie was cocking his head like a confused Spaniel, he always did when Waylon laughed at something and he didn’t know why. “My phone?” Eddie blushed through the matted red of the scabbing.  
“Oh!” he juggled the phone around in a minor fluster before realizing he hadn’t let go of Waylon’s hand. He froze up like an old computer trying to run too many processes and practically had a blue screen showing. Waylon took pity, reaching with his free hand to gently pry the phone from him, leaving his other in the vice grip. He was going to say something when Miles’ voice carried over.

“Way-way? You still here?” Eddie seemed to tense, grip getting tighter a moment before pulling back entirely.  
“You still running around with Miles then?” There was an odd note in his casual tone, like he was reciting one of his lines.

“Yup. He’s gotten even more clingy since the wedding announcement. I mean, it’ll be a change, but—”

“Wedding announcement? Oh, congratulations.” Eddie was still off. Miles swept into the room, obviously having overheard the last bit of conversation.

“Thanks! We’re thrilled, obviously. It’s not every day the love of your life agrees to go all domestic with you. Oh hey, shiny!” Miles ducked down and picked up the metal piece. Still kneeling, he turned and lifted it up to Waylon with a mischievous look. “Now where does this look familiar from? I’m sure this has happened before.” Waylon rolled his eyes and did not think of all the times he;s lost a bit and needed Miles’ help. Dude was like a metal detector and he swore the writer stole things just so he could magically find them later.

“I need to be off, my station’s waiting,” Eddie said, already heading back out the door he’d arrived by. He paused, hand on the frame and turned back around. “It’s nice to see you again, Waylon.” That at least sounded genuine, but before the sentiment could be returned, Eddie had slipped into the shadows.

“Ooh, Way-Way found himself the Groom.” Miles wagged his eyebrows like a demented cartoon.

“We talked about this, Miles. Eddie doesn’t—”

“Eddie?” Miles pulled up short. “Huh, didn’t recognize him, else I’d kick him in the shin. Bastard standing you up and playing dumb.” Now he’d lost him.

“Then what were you talking about before?”

“The Groom is the main scare in the Rec Block and Quarters. He captures people, ties them up and saws them apart. If they’re lucky they’re hanged after that, elsewise they’re the new décor,” Miles explained. “Has a bit of a Prince Charming vibe too, though now I know why. Anyway, Blake’s here and ready to start doing pick-ups and promo. We’ll do some interviews but wait for the walkthrough until it gets all dark and atmospheric, yeah?” Miles kept talking but Waylon was only half paying attention, wondering how Eddie'd been and wondering if he should really be wondering about him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do the walkthrough and Eddie is transparent to everyone but Waylon.

“Hey, welcome back! We’re on site at the Murkoff Asylum!” Blake was doing an intro and explaining how pissed Lynn was pregnancy kept her from coming too. Waylon watched his screens and tried not to look for Eddie’s silhouette among the opening crowd. He was a face character, so would probably stay in his area until the end of the night. Looking over the general map, Waylon wondered how one actor could cover so much ground on his own, even with a limit of one group per entry.

Whoever was running the event was smart and had the main asylum areas, but Cannibal’s Kitchen, Doctor’s Lab, and the Groom’s domain were additional cost and had limited, timed ticket reservations. Blake had managed to get a daytime rehearsal of all the lines and scare spots last week so he could plan his shots.

“First, we’re going to the main area.” Actually, they only slot they could get for the Doctor’s Lab meant they had to shoot there first. For continuity, they sent someone with a camera toward the main entrance; they could cobble together editing to make it look like they went there first. 

The Lab was creepy and Waylon had to keep pressing his lips closed and biting his tongue to keep from screaming or gasping to where the equipment could pick him up. After that was the Cannibal’s Kitchen and the main asylum. They almost lost Miles there—at least Waylon finally knew what ex-marines and emails had to do with each other. Miles’ fiance, Chris, was playing a role there as a patient. At least this time it wasn’t so much fear Waylon struggled with, it was amusement. Hearing Chris use Miles’ nickname as part of his act, watching his roommate blush and get all shy was fantastic.

“Okay, last but not least, the Rec Block and Quarters. They say there’s a patient here trying to find love.” Blake wagged his eyebrows and laughed, still sounding shaky from the Walrider scare. A character named Dennis met them at the start and chased them through a series of hallways until they had to go downstairs.

This was familiar. They were back in the area Miles had left him waiting—it seems no one fixed the lampshade yet as it was still crooked. A song started playing in the distance, crackling like an old record. Blake was carefully navigating the sewing room, prepping for the Groom’s entry. They hadn’t told him how Eddie would show up, just to prepare for him to announce himself before coming in. 

“Yeah, the effects are really something here. I think that’s an old Singer machi—”

“Darling!” Just like earlier, Eddie appeared at the chained doors, right by Blake’s face. The personality squealed and dropped to the ground. There were exaggerated footsteps as the Groom moved down the hall toward his entrance. 

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shiiiiiit.” Blake panicked and ran jolted around in a circle, not actually moving anywhere. Waylon tugged his sleeve so he’d be crouched behind a machine. The notes said to hide and get passed the Groom until the next room.

“Darling? I’m sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.” Waylon could hear a bit of the lilt Eddie had used for Prince Phillip and shivered. It was creepy af to hear that voice with rasps and angry screams. 

+++

He stood corrected, the most terrifying part of the Groom’s character was hearing him sing. Eddie still sounded great, of freaking course, but hearing him croon while dodging through hanging bodies and watching (a screen projection of) him dissecting people alive dampened its swoon-effect.

When the group made it to the gymnasium, he was kinda impressed at how productive the Groom had been during the riot. Still, there was one noose hanging lower than the rest, ready to welcome the newest failure of a bride.

“I try and I try,” Eddie was saying, pulling at rigging, and Waylon really shouldn’t be focusing on the flex of his biceps at a time like this, but damn. He knew how gracefully those arms could lift and carry someone his weight. He knew exactly how they felt too—during one of their hangouts Waylon had twisted an ankle and Eddie overreacted, demanding the tech stay off his feet and let him carry him upstairs. It felt like floating while surrounded by a warm blanket: heavenly.

“Not so fast.” Waylon was broken out of his reverie by Blake running past him, Eddie in pursuit. It seemed the former was going to be caught, but the traitor knocked Waylon into the Groom’s path. Eddie seemed to pause a moment, blinking, but Waylon didn’t pull back.

“I have you now, _Darling_.” Eddie grinned so wide it looked a bit wolfish, but the tug at Waylon’s arm was gentle. He was being invited to play a part but Eddie wasn’t going to force him. Waylon rolled his eyes, not scared for once tonight.

“Oooh, you’ve been a naughty little slut,” Eddie went on in character, dragging his new victim toward the noose. Blake was panting slightly, bent over with his hands on his knees by Miles, watching the finale. Eddie leaned close as if to get a better grip and instructed him softly.

“Start fighting back, but let me know if you want to stop. Let’s put on a show.” Waylon smirked, remembering how freaked out Eddie got by tears when one of the prop minions started stress crying.

“No!” he pulled his best frightened look and Eddies grip slackened immediately, but for all his motion Waylon didn’t pull away. “I already told you, I’m a man. I can’t e—won’t be your bride!” Eddie blinked but then broke out in a beatific grin.

“Oh, shut up. I tried to make you beautiful, but you were ungrateful—a whore like all the rest.” He made a sweeping gesture to the bodies hanging from the ceiling. “And soon, yes soon you’ll join them.” He began dragging Waylon across the floor.

Waylon put up a token resistance, curious to see how this ends. Eddie was reaching out for the noose and he saw the actor give it a slight tug.

“Now, be a good little dear and I might make you a pretty dress.” Rumbling noises and the scream of steel under too much weight played and Eddie moved to put the noose around Waylon. The tech saw movement near the ceiling and bit back a grin, recognizing the type of lift they’d used for the fairies. He made as if to dash away and Eddie gave a surprised cry. “Darling, no!” He let go and the ceiling burst, rubble falling along the edges. Waylon watched as Eddie flew back a bit, too enthralled in dissecting the setup to realize he was about to get snatched again. 

“We…could have been beautiful.” Eddie stuttered out before there was another shake and he was pulled to the ceiling. Since he was looking for it, Waylon was able to see Eddie crawl past some pipes and then the mannequin made to look like him was revealed, skewered on some rebar. Waylon gave a light scoff, holding back laughter. It was such a neat set up he couldn’t help but geek out a bit. 

“And cut!” Miles shouted, pulling Waylon’s attention back down. He was wearing a shit eating grin that meant something amused him, and Waylon had a sneaking suspicion it was him. 

“That was awesome! He’s really good at improv—the walkthrough wasn’t quite so flirty. And that bit at the end? This bride would’ve been different.” Blake looked smugly at Waylon, who was starting to get uncomfortable. Miles was snickering and texting, Chris most likely, but Blake seemed to catch on a moment later. Waylon had no idea what he was talking about. “Oh, oh, _oh_! Umm, let’s schedule some cast interviews. We were the last Groom group, so maybe start with him?”

The team started packing up, moving to the interview location, and Waylon’s phone buzzed. He had a Snap from Miles. Dreading it even as he moved, Waylon opened it and saw a picture of Eddie clinging to Waylon, eyeing him like he was the entire world. Miles had filled the image with hearts and glitter and cupids, writing OTP in cursive across the bottom. Waylon choked on his tongue, swiping at his phone to get that off the screen. He felt a buzz and finally the app closed.

“Hey, you might be able to help with the interview. Maybe ask for his number?” Miles materialized at his side, nudging their shoulders together. “Unless, of course, you already have that.” Waylon could feel his face radiating heat and wondered if Blake would be able to finish his interview without Miles jumping Eddie just to watch Waylon squirm.


	3. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't coming out right, but I'm going to post it and see where it goes, maybe come back and edit it later.
> 
> Basically Eddie gets a crush and Waylon should rightfully be dead (do not try this at home?).

When the flyer asking for behind the scenes help went around Waylon really didn’t care. He was more into computer programming and didn’t particularly want to deal with listening to the same three minute clips for hours on end to make sure everything was set up right. 

”So Chris is working on the production this semester.” 

“Cool. What part?”

“You’ll never guess—the dragon!” Miles started nodding excitedly at Waylon’s dumbstruck expression. “Yup. He’s in charge of the team making and operating a dragon. I have literally never been so proud.” 

“How does that even work?”

“You remember the Cheshire Cat in that _Alice in Wonderland_ ballet? He made a whole rig to keep the head up and everything. It’s early in the talks, but if it runs smoothly they may even be able to float the fairies around." 

“Now that I have to see.” Waylon had put it out of his mind until Miles dragged him to practice and he saw what a piss poor time they were having regulating the sound. The lead sound guy was in some of his classes and looked entirely overwhelmed—Silky was a nice guy but not one for leadership.

“Hey, can I take a look?” Silky all but cried and thrust Waylon into the sound booth. He wasn’t too up to date but found neither was their program. He messed around with it a bit and (after a few YouTube videos and a bottle of frustration tequila mixed chased with a hangover cure of Monster and Red Bull espresso) managed to pull everything together. It was about this point he realized he had been given a CREW t-shirt and had attended more meetings than some of the cast had. 

Shit. 

“Shit.” Was he hearing in stereo? Looking over the parking lot he didn’t see anyone until the battered blue hood of a well-loved but older car slammed back down. Looks like the prince was having technical issues with his white steed. Or blue. Or….metaphors are hard and a voice in the back of his head that sounded like horny Miles three drinks in at a bar crawl whispered _and so are you_. 

Contrary to invasive hallucinations’ opinion, Waylon was fine treating his crush of the past few weeks as more than a slab of meat. However beefy and delectable Eddie Gluskin was swanning around in tights and helping carry things around for the crew and singing with the most amazing voice that was now hissing out slurred, foreign sylllables…He needed to get more sleep and have less hangover energy drinks. 

“You all right?” Gluskin froze and spun to face him. 

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that, uhm…Wilson?” Waylon told his heart that no, it was not _cute_ he had gotten so close. 

“Waylon. Car giving you trouble?” He walked around and looked under the hood and yup. Those were engine bits. 

“Refuses to start and I really don’t have four hours to wait on the local cab service.” Eddie laughed a bit self-deprecatingly but bit at his lip, running his hand through tousled hair. It was hard to tell age on a college campus, but Waylon thought he remembered hearing that Gluskin was a senior? They didn’t really interact at all and the closes they had to a conversation was when Waylon asked him to hum something so he could test a mic placement. 

“I could give you a lift, I’m parked right over there.” He pointed to his boxy gray junker. Eddie seemed to pause, probably wondering if Waylon was going to take him somewhere and kill him or if the car would do that anyway. “I have to go pick up some chips anyway, so it wouldn’t be a bother.” Chips? That was a stupid thing to waste gas on, but Miles’ bitching about finishing the bag last night had come to mind. Oh god, Eddie was still staring at him and Waylon was pretty sure he looked like a greasy tech goblin who just crawled out from its hovel. It's a good thing he didn’t really have a sense of dignity or this would’ve killed it. 

“I would _love_ that. It’s really no trouble?” Eddie smiled and it looked like he was glowing. That may have been the sparkly stage makeup he had been testing out for his Prince Phillip but the tween idiot who had read all of the _Twilight_ books in middle school swooned. 

“No worries. Need help carrying anything?” 

“Nah, it’s just my bag.” Eddie pulled a messenger bag stuffed with paper and design schematics from the passenger seat where it sat by a lanyard and locked up. They went to Waylon’s car. Waylon had just sat down and turned the engine over when he paused. 

“Wait, you didn’t need those other keys, right?” Eddie frowned a moment in confusion before his face blanched and he began patting himself and his bag down. 

“I’ll be right back!” He dove out of Waylon’s car and booked it back to his, pulling the small keyring from his pocket and fumbling with it a bit before managing to open the door. He put the lanyard and its plethora of keys around his neck, locked up, and ran back over. “Thank you _so_ much. I’d’ve been locked out and sitting on the step all night.” Eddie panted, face tinged a mottled pink. 

Waylon couldn’t help himself from laughing a bit. “We’re quite the pair then aren’t we?” He thought, referencing his own awkwardness. Eddie blinked at him a moment, turning a bit redder before joining in, laughing so hard he snorted a bit. Nerd. 


	4. Flashback Filler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Waylon are friends during production.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be even more vague since it's just a random idea I had. Poem is simply titled "Song" by John Donne and is shortened a bit here.

"Yes, Haha!"

"Didn't you have homework to memorize or something?" Waylon groused as Eddie's top hat landed on the fourth railroad, completing his set. They had time to kill between class and practice so were playing video games at Waylon and Miles' place; for some reason Monopoly had sounded like a good idea. 

"Donne." Eddie passed the remote over and Waylon simply quirked a brow at him.

"Obviously," he drawled, pointing to where the screen was focusing on his silver dog. Eddie blinked before letting out an inelegant bark of laughter. "What? You handed me the remote!"

"The poet," Eddie gasped out. "I have to monologue something by John Donne. The poet. He went back into giggles and Waylon had no sympathy when it devolved into little snorts.

Waylon felt himself flush but wasnt too put out about not knowing a poet's name. "Oh." He started his turn and the dice rolled before scattering on the board.

"Go and catch a falling star," Eddie sighed. Waylon turned to ask him what that meant when Eddie put a finger to his lips, halting any sound. His posture shifted and Waylon could see the Smooth, Charsmatic Actor persona slip into place. 

_"Go and catch a falling star, get with child a mandrake root, tell me where all past years are, or who cleft the devil's foot. Teach me to hear mermaids singing or ro keep off envy's stinging, and find--what wind--serves to advance an honest mind."_

Waylon could hardly breath as Eddie lamented that in all the world there was not a fair or virtuous woman. 

_"If thou find'st one, let me know," here the actor's voice turned playful. "Though she were true when you met her, and last till you wrote your letter...yet she will be_ false _ere I come two or three."_ He winked and sat back, leaving a blushing techie and a heavy implication in the air.

"You," Waylon finally stuttered out. Eddie leaned forward again, back in his personal space and watching his face intently. "You utter man-whore!" Eddie's face broke out into a proud grin as Waylon dissolved into helpless mirth.

"That may be, but you owe this man-whore big time for landing on utilities." Waylon sobered up and saw he wasn't lying. "Though I'm sure an agreement could be made for nice people. People who don't insult their friends or steal the chip bag as if I didnt notice." Both of them glanced at the half-eaten bag of chips sitting on the other side of Waylon. 

"Don't make me use the Miles method of conflict resolution," Waylon warned. Miles was incredibly tactile and used it to his advantage. 

Eddie drowned a bit, trying to place the familiar name. "Miles, the guy that hangs out at rehearsal to handed you lunch?"

"One and the same."

"You just rolled a six and it's times--" Waylom lunges in and kissed Eddie's cheek, quickly ending his turn and using Eddie's to make a trade, essentially refunding himself.

"Yes, Haha!" Waylon crowed. Eddie seemed to jolt back to himself and noticed the illicit trade.

"Whose the man-whore now, darling?" Eddie starting poking his side, especially targeting places he know Waylon was ticklish. As they devolved into an embarrassingly one-sided tickle fight, Waylon finally broke.

"Okay, okay! I give. I owe you one." Eddie leaned back, obviously not trusting him. "Anything you want short of murder and public nudity. I owe you, kay?"

"Promise?"

"I swear on the life of my car."

"You do have an unhealthy attachment to that thing." The actor thought it over before holding a hand out to shake. "It's a deal." 

"Great, get off me." Waylon pushed him to the side and sat up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Oh, darling, you dont know what you've done." Waylon remembered how devious Eddie could be and his eyes widened. He gave a dramatic cry and flopped to the floor as Eddie gave a maniacal laugh.


	5. Back on Track--Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happens before the poem one, after their meeting.

It had been a couple weeks since giving Eddie a ride home and they hadn’t really crossed paths too much. Eddie had smiled and waved at him at practice and Waylon promptly tripped on a cord and faceplanted behind his control station. It was only through the tireless work of Silky that the aux goblins didn’t eat him. 

“I keep telling you, Way,” Miles interrupted his catch-up chat. “Leave three slices of dill pickle and a quart of orange juice under the control box and the gremlins can’t get you.” Waylon puffed up a bit at him but couldn’t move lest his friend screw up painting his pinky nail. Miles had found this really obnoxious and grungy orange color polish and Waylon loved it. Miles himself was sporting a smoky black veneer. 

“And I keep telling you that’s not appeasing the tech demons, it’s just pissing the janitor off.” 

“Hey, whatever gets it clean, you know? Now let me put the quick-dry on before you ruin this.” Miles pulled out a half-empty container of clear coat and started back in. What had started as a drunken foray into YouTube’s nail polish videos had turned into something of a ritual between them. Whenever there was a big event or a bad day, or...well any excuse really, the two would meet up and practice on each other. The joy of college was there were weirder things going on than two dudes walking around with their nails done.

”Point taken. Anyways, so Silky was helping me get untangled and kept telling me about how many times he ended up wound in wire due to similar situations and I don’t know if he knows he totally has a kink for getting tied up.” Miles snorted as Waylon kept going on about the rigs and tech crew.

”Have you seen Eddie again?” Miles asked in a subtle way that, given it was Miles, was incredibly worrisome.

”No?”

”Hmm.”

It was quiet a moment, just the plastic of the brush clinking against the glass container.

”Why?”

”Chris said he was getting all moon-eyed and kept talking about how nice Waylon is and how Waylon kept him from being locked out and if he knows anything about Waylon.” Miles screwed the cap back on and swatted at the techie’s wrist as he tried to move. “No, I don’t know how, but you always manage to fuck that up. Your hands are not moving from this table so help me Fonzie. Now, are you gonna go talk to Eddie or do I need to stage something?”

”Do I even have a choice?” Waylon sighed. Miles glanced as his phone and tilted his head to the side as if counting something.

”You have five minutes of choice left.”

”What?” Waylon jolted, immediately seeing the trap he’d been led into. He wouldn’t turn down a nail day and he couldn’t move until it dried. Now all that was left was to figure out what would be happening in five minutes. A key scraped in the lock and the door pushed open.

”Goddam, I’m bad at math,” Miles said as Chris walked in, a similarly tall form drifting in behind him.

”What’s all this?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at the selection of nail polish and products scattered across the coffee table before catching sight of Waylon. He made a motion as if to say something else but nothing came out.

”S’a couple of dudes being guys,” Waylon blurted out, God help him.

”A couple of guys being dudes,” Miles continued as he started packing up the bottles. Not quite the help he was going for, but okay.

”A couple of dudes being _gay_.” Waylon shrugged—guess this was his life now.

”Show me your dick!” Miles finished cleaning and sat back on the floor by Way. Eddie looked between them, utterly confused. He knew Miles would only let him suffer.

”It’s a reference, dude. What’re you doing here?” He was eternally grateful his tone came out light instead of accusatory. He could see Eddie physically shake his confusion off before looking at Chris.

”Dragon blocking.” Chris Walker was a great guy, real good listener and gave great hugs, but a talker he was not.

”Ooh! Did you finish detailing the head then?” Miles perked up. He’d gone over some of the padding and maneuverability issues Chris’ team had been working on earlier. Waylon would just be impressed at seeing a giant dragon head prop, but Chris’ team had gone the extra mile. Maleficent now sported a fog machine and glow-in-the-dark paint detailing.

”They did, it’s _phenomenal_ ,” Eddie beamed, going into fanboy mode with Miles. Waylon tracked as Chris slid from the room into the kitchen, most likely looking going through the fridge to toss out anything spoiled. Again. They tried, but...college, man.

”Won’t you Waylon?” The world jumped back into focus as he heard his name. 

”Yes?” he responded before processing a question had been asked.

”See? There you have it, you can get a film perspective for actual stage blocking later.” Miles had apparently offered Waylon’s services in recording the blocking and editing together as smooth a take as possible from good motions. How tedious. He had a paper he had to start-- 

”I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” Eddie flushed lightly and his hand went to smooth down his already impeccable hair. He bit down on his lip nervously, looking almost shy.

”It’s no bother, really! Do we still have that old camcorder around?” Waylon had barely finished before Miles was pressing it and a pack of batteries into his hands. His paper wasn’t due for another six hours anyway, there was plenty of time.

”Have fun, kiddos. I’m going to nap in Way-way's bed and move all the pillows around.” Miles waved and headed to the bedroom, passing Chris and his trash bag full of rotten food.

”hey! Just because you don’t like the look of it doesn’t mean it isn’t comfy.”

” _You’re_ comfy!” Miles shot back, turning out of sight. Waylon rolled his eyes. 

”Not an insult, Mi.” Chris gave the living room a quick look and decided it was in a clean enough state of chaotic disrepair that he didn’t need to grab another bag. Without wasting words, he grabbed Miles’ keys from the depths of the couch and headed outside.

”C’mon, Prince Charming, we’ve got some badassery to film,” Waylon sang out. He couldn’t wait to see the dragon. Miles had made it sound epic, though they’d probably start with prototype shells so as not to hurt the real one.

”Lead away.” Eddie’s voice came from right over his ear and Miles shivered as he stepped outside into the summer air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly no idea where nail polish came into this. I haven't even been watching those videos, lol. For some reason, though, it seemed a fitting thing for these two to do. Miles favors highlighter and glow-in-the-dark colors whereas Waylon is a fan of nudes or the most hideous colors imaginable (here a homage to the more orangier color often used in Outlast fanart).


	6. Still a flashback; Really short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finals weeks are awful, here's some quick fluff of Waylon getting hot and bothered.

So Waylon totally should have realized that when filming repeated, strenuous action scenes, he was gonna see some muscles. After the first thirty minutes, Eddie had tossed his shirt off and Waylon got a look at some fine, _fine_ , muscles. Those arms were delectable and he wanted to lick those pecs…

“Drooling.” Waylon jumped out of his skin, catching the attention of the stretching actor. Chris snorted, his version of a full-belly laugh. 

“Everything all right?” Eddie trotted over and Waylon tore his eyes from those lovely thighs and other face-level bits to see Eddie’s worried face. 

“Overheated,” Chris said. Miles was a terrible influence. Unfortunately, Eddie is a nice guy and immediately knelt down to check on Waylon. 

“Do you need some water? You do seem a bit flushed. Or we can get you to some shade—“

“I can get some water, I’ll just be a mo--!” One moment he was standing up, the next he was flat on his ass again, now with two worried faces hovering over him. “Umm. Ow?” His ankle was throbbing. 

“Waylon!” Eddie helped him sit up. “Where does it hurt? What happened? What can I—” Chris pulled him back so Way could get air.

“Twisted ankle. On the grass.” The large tech pointed to where grass was still wrapped around the toe of Way’s sneaker. 

“Oh, I should probably put some ice on it.” 

“Hey, easy now, you shouldn’t walk on that,” Eddie put his hands on Waylon’s shoulders to either steady or restrain him.

“No, it’s not that far, I can take the stairs slow and—eep!” 

Waylon was hoisted into the air and found his face pressed against sun-warmed skin. Damn, even after that work he didn’t smell too bad. What cologne does he use? The gentle sway of his walking was soothing, until he shifted and twinged his ankle. He hissed out a breath and stilled. 

“Sorry!” Eddie slowed, rolling his steps to lessen any jarring. Waylon blushed again as the new motion had the actor prowling forward gracefully. He made an odd gurgling noise as he batted away dirty thoughts of where else that grace could come in handy.

Finally they made it back inside and Eddie laid him on the couch. “Do you have a first aid kit?” 

“Back here and to the right, under the bathroom sink.” Miles slunk into the hall, wrapped in one of Waylon’s blankets. He came and sat on the floor by Waylon’s chest, and both listened to Eddie rummaging around in the other room. 

“So.” Miles spoke up. “Sword kink, huh?” Eddie ran back as soon as he heard Waylon squawk, only to be met with a laughing Miles and a flushed tech trying to smack him to death with a pillow. 


End file.
